


Thank goodness for New York food trucks

by sylveondreams



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Everyday Shenanigans, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26522695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylveondreams/pseuds/sylveondreams
Summary: Peter would love to eat a hot sandwich for once in his life.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Thank goodness for New York food trucks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blueberry_Dance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberry_Dance/gifts).



> Happy birthday (about an hour ago, anyway) to my spawn partner!

Change clattered into the tip jar, and Peter scurried off to let the next customer step up to the food truck, his sandwich wrapped but already cooling in his hand. Just as he readied himself to run and swing into the air to eat it on a rooftop, there was a shout of “Spider-man?” from behind him. Peter turned. A small gaggle of teenage tourists stood on the other side of the street, waving at him. He waved back, and they beckoned him over. Well, if they  _ insisted.  _ Peter crossed at the crosswalk in a flock of people. 

“Hi, you caught me at my lunch break.” He held up the sandwich, and a whiff of hot roast beef and sauce hit his nose and made his mouth water. 

“Can we get a picture?” a girl with a shock of bright pink hair asked Peter, and they engaged in a few minutes of selecting a random passerby as a cameraperson to take a picture of the group of them with Peter, his sandwich resting wrapped on the ground by his feet. Traffic honked by, and although Peter never resented taking pictures with people, his stomach had been grumbling since before he’d stood on his tip-toes to shout his order at the food truck owner. 

After a round of “Hope you have a good time in New York!” and “Bye, Spider-man!”s, Peter swung away (to a chorus of “wow!”s from the teenagers) and flipped up onto a short roof. A crowd of pigeons took flight, and a window just a story above Peter’s head opened with a bang and a bit of swearing from the person inside. 

“Hey, Spider-man! Could you give me a hand moving my couch?”

Peter hadn’t even pulled up his mask or unwrapped his sandwich at all, so he didn’t have to put anything away before climbing up the wall. The apartment inside was small and messy, and the guy who needed a hand was around Peter’s age and (somehow) even shorter than him. 

“Thanks for helping,” said the guy, who’d perched himself in the kitchen to give Peter enough room to drag the dingy couch across the tiny living room and turn it around. “I needed a change in my feng shui or whatever, but I can’t move the thing on my own and my roommate’s in Maine.” 

Peter looked around the living room and thought about his own tiny apartment. “Do you want a lamp? It might make it feel more cozy.”

“Is Spider-man offering me a lamp?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. My aunt didn’t like mine, so she gave me another one, and now I have two.” 

So Peter found himself swinging the five-minute journey to his apartment, and back again with a lamp in his hand and his sandwich sitting on the roof with the pigeons. Back in the guy’s apartment, they set up the lamp on the floor next to the couch (even though it was a table lamp) and plugged it in. The room did feel more cozy. 

“Thanks!” said the guy, didn’t ask for a picture, and let Peter jump back out the window to try to eat his sandwich, which was now only slightly lukewarm to the touch. 

_ Try _ was the key word. When his feet hit the roof, his phone rang, and he fished it out from under his shirt to press it to his ear. 

“Spider-man,” said the weird voice on the other side. 

Peter hung up. 

He didn’t want to talk to Venom. 

On the street below, a kid shouted, and a balloon that said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” drifted up past Peter. He slung a web at it, pulled it to him, and jumped down to give it back to its owner. 

“Honey, I told you not to take off the weight at the bottom of the string,” said the kid’s mom. “Say thanks to Spider-man.”

“Thanks, Spider-man,” the kid said shyly, clutching the string with both hands.

“How old are you?” Peter asked them. 

“I’m four. It’s my birthday!”

“Happy birthday!” Peter gave them a high-five, and they laughed when their hand stuck a little to his. 

Back on the roof, Peter finally pulled up his mask and unwrapped the sandwich. His first bite was cold, but it was good. Thank goodness for New York food trucks.


End file.
